Legacy
by wildsky
Summary: Futurefic. Post BIS. One of the Freak Nation's lost sons comes to Seattle after twenty years in search of answers about his past and his family. A bit different to what I usually write. Please read and review!


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **Okay, so this is completely random but I couldn't concentrate on BIS or TPD with it bouncing around in my head. At this point it's a one-shot but I may (stressing the word _may_) add more from time to time depending on how I feel. Of course, if the concept sucks, let me know.

**LEGACY**

**Seattle, 2041AD**

The station in South Market was illuminated only by strings of lights that criss-crossed the roof. People milled around without any apparent destination in mind until they were forced to scurry out of the way of a bus that lurched and sputtered its way into the parking bay. The engine rumbled to a halt and the vehicle rocked as people began to get out of their seats.

Some alighted to be greeted by family and friends. Others faded into the crowds. Only one stopped after a few steps and let his gaze wander slowly over his surroundings, taking everything in. He adjusted the duffel bag he carried over one shoulder, mentally cataloguing everything he saw and heard as he began weaving his way towards the exit to begin his search.

No-one paid any attention to him. He didn't look any different to anyone else. Short dark hair, equally dark eyes and a distinctly Latin cast to his skin were the only features that made him stand out in any visible way yet all his life he'd been different. He could look at the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and put it together in his mind. He could recite the last book he'd read, word for word. He could watch a car drive past on the street and calculate its speed in his head.

Sometimes he wished he couldn't do all of those things. He'd never been allowed to play sports at school or with his friends. He'd never gotten anything less than an A+ on any exam he'd ever taken. He'd graduated years ahead of kids his own age. The word 'genius' had been thrown around a lot as he grew up. He hadn't liked it.

So he'd learned to hide his gifts, to pretend he was just like everyone else.

He'd asked his father why he could do those things when he was a kid. The man had told him that he'd inherited it from his mother, that she and others in her family had been special – child prodigies. But that still didn't explain why he was stronger and faster, why he could run for hours and hear a dripping tap in the next-door neighbour's house.

Eventually, his father had used the word 'transgenic' and things had finally started to make sense. It explained why his mother had been taken away and never come back. It explained why his father was so worried about attracting the wrong kind of attention and shielded him for so many years.

For a long time, that had been enough for him. On a purely intellectual level, he knew what a transgenic was. He listened to the news and read the papers. Then one day he ran across a picture of a woman he recognized and heard a soft voice making a pledge that would never be fulfilled.

_She went back to the castle, didn't she? To fight the evil king_.

_I'll get her back to you… okay? I promise_.

X5-452. Max Guevara. One of the first leaders of the transgenic race.

Then his father was killed. A drunk driver took him away as he crossed the street to buy some meat for dinner. He died within minutes and his son was alone for the first time in his life. He went through the motions – going to work, smiling at his colleagues and paying the bills – but curiosity had finally gotten the better of him. He knew all of his human relatives. He knew their histories, their voices and their smiles. He didn't know a damn thing about the other side of the family tree except that they'd been whipped up in a lab and refused to go quietly into the night.

_So here I am_ _in Seattle. Home of the Freak Nation_, he thought wryly. _God, that sounds like the world's weirdest baseball team._ _I must be crazy_.

With a sigh, he glanced at the street signs to get his bearings and pulled a map out of his jacket pocket. Quickly getting his bearings, he set off on the path he'd set out in his mind.

The problem with being famous was that it was hard to keep secrets. Max was no exception to that rule. It was a well-known fact that she could often be found at the transgenic council building in Sector Seven, which had once been a safehouse and field headquarters.

The building had clearly been extensively renovated since those days. It sported relatively new paintwork and spotless windows. The interior, however, was nothing short of stunning. The walls were covered in intricate murals full of colour and life. They were beautiful to look at, drawing the eye towards the back of the entrance hall where a receptionist typed away at her desk.

"I'm looking for Max Guevara," he told her.

"I'm sorry. Ms Guevara isn't available right now. Can I take a message?" she replied in the robotic tone that indicated extreme disinterest. She hadn't even glanced up at him.

"Uh… no, thanks," he said lamely. "I'll try again later."

Moving away from the counter, he seated himself on a chair close to the entrance and let his duffel fall onto the floor. Leaning back against the wall, he settled in to wait. The minutes ticked by and the sun completed its slow descent below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and violet.

Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he saw two women emerge from a side door into the foyer. One was quite young – she couldn't have been more than nineteen – with long coppery hair that fell past her shoulders and moss green eyes that caught the light as she smiled at her companion.

Max was older but still beautiful, her long dark hair pulled back with only a few tendrils left to curl around her face. He knew she must have been in her late thirties or perhaps even forty but she didn't look it. She had a few faint laugh lines around her eyes but that was all. She was still petite, still athletic - an incongruous vessel for such force of will – and he wondered if all transgenics aged as well as she had.

He watched her as she scanned the room, a reflex she'd undoubtedly been unable to shake despite living in relative safety for almost a decade now. Her eyes swept over him and went no further, her expression clouding slightly with a look most people wore when they got a feeling of déjà vu.

He'd wondered if she'd recognize him and it seemed that he had his answer.

"We'll finish this up later, Eve," she said softly and the redhead nodded, though she followed Max's line of sight and frowned in puzzlement when she couldn't identify him. She lingered for a few moments before reluctantly heading towards the main entrance and vanishing into the evening air.

Max stopped in front of him and studied his face, her dark eyes mildly perplexed. She was clearly trying to place him and wasn't having a great deal of success.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked at last.

"Sort of," he admitted, his lips curving upwards a little. "You knew my mother."

Max gazed at the young man standing across from her as the pieces fell into place. In a flash of insight, she knew who he was. It was written in his features – the near-black hair, the impossibly dark eyes, the caramel skin a shade darker than her own. He couldn't have been more than three or four inches taller than she and he had the compact build inherited from the stealth female who'd given herself up to save him.

Her eyes widened and a brilliant smile curved her lips, lighting up her face and the next thing he knew she was hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, grateful for the warmth of her welcome. For a moment, he hadn't been certain she'd be glad to see him.

"Case," she murmured, finally pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Oh my God… look at you!"

"Hey, Max," he replied, smiling a little as she inspected him from head to toe, drinking in the change that two decades had wrought.

"You got so big," she marvelled, grinning happily. "How old are you now? Twenty-four?"

"Yeah," he nodded. It felt strange to be standing in front of her after all this time. He'd had so many things to say to her, so many questions yet he couldn't seem to vocalize a single one.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "You and your dad have been living on the east coast, right?"

Case's face fell and Max's happy expression dimmed as well.

"Dad died a few months ago," he told her softly, the loss still far too raw for him to talk about it for any great length of time. "I wasn't there."

"Case, I'm so sorry," she said gently, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "He was a really good guy. I liked him."

She had. He remembered that. It wasn't an obvious thing – more like a sense of quiet approval tinged with sadness that radiated from her when she saw his parents together. At the time, he'd been too young to pick up on it but as he grew older he'd looked back and read between the lines.

"I just figured it was about time I came around," he said, feeling a bit awkward. "There's some things I want to know. About my mom, mostly, but there's other stuff as well."

Max's expression softened as understanding flowed through her. She'd been the same when she was young – wanting to know who her mother was, why her life had played out the way it had.

"Come with me," she urged him gently and she took him by the hand and led him out of the building.

A short time later, Case gazed out over the city as the moon glowed in the sky above. On top of the Space Needle, he could see everything spread out before him yet it was quiet, the constant jumble of sound generated by the sprawling metropolis momentarily silenced at such a height. He stepped up to the edge and peered down at the street six hundred feet below.

"Careful," Max cautioned him but he just grinned, not moving away. It was a strange sensation, to know he was a step away from falling to his death and still feel no fear. He didn't sway as the wind buffeted him – he balanced easily, bracing himself without conscious thought of what he was doing.

Max came to stand beside him, her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her pants. "If you want to know who you are… and who your mother was," Max told him quietly, "then you've come to the right city."

He nodded mutely, still rapt by the scene laid out before him.

"Welcome home, Case."


End file.
